Puppets: 'Play it again, Sam' Sequel
by Salamara
Summary: Two years after The Joker lost his wife, he's finally been caught - and finds a new doll to play with. Rated 'M' cos it's gonna be a little more crazy that 'Play it Again' with a bit more language & sexual antics. Not your usual Harley-Joker Fic.


**_Hey kids - here's the first chapter of the sequel I promised. I really just want to see how it is accepted and whether I should continue; I have more chapters written, but if no one likes this I won't work on it so much (especially now I'm back at uni). Let me know what you think and any hints / tips you have._**

**_Also; WARNING - language and sexual scenes... wouldn't be any fun otherwise would it? Lol ;)_**

**_Disclaimer: I own NOTHING to do with Batman - but this is my storyline, so...meh! :P_**

**_-Sal-_**

* * *

The pencil tapped monotonously on the metal table as Harleen floated off into a dream. Her eyes hazed over; moments from her sleepless nights breezing around her head.

She ran cold fingertips over the blank clipboard, propping up her chin on her fist.

The drumming of the pencil grew louder and more rapid, before it just stopped – dead.

'...hour's up...'

Slowly her focus zoned back in on the now discarded pencil.

'Hm?'

The Joker leant forward in his chair.

'Hour's up – you've been staring at the wall the entire session...'

He itched at his unshaven cheek; the crinkle of his polyester uniform raising hairs on the back of Harleen's arm.

Her hip clicked noisily as she straightened in the chair.

'Ok...tomorrow we'll try the new exercise...'

'What were you thinking about?'

She looked up to him; her dark eyes aching in weariness.

'I'm sorry?'

The Joker loosened his shoulders, and rolled the pencil back to her from where the restraints held him.

'I'm asking what you were thinking about.'

She took up the sheets of paper and began collecting things together, casually ignoring her patient's question.

'Nothing – just ideas...'

'Ideas about what?'

His tongue eased over pale, scarred lips; reeling Harleen's attention towards his mouth.

'Ideas about – work...our conversations...'

She was stuttering. Never in her life had she stuttered before: stuttering was a sign of nervousness, and lack of confidence. She had never experienced any of these, either.

Tutting in disappointment, The Joker reclined back in his chair.

'Oh Harley...I thought we were past all this – all these _lies_...'

Not once did his gaze falter.

'Tell me what you were _thinking_ about...'

'I've told you – work...'

His grin stretched the puckered skin around his mouth.

'No you weren't...I'll tell you what you were thinking about...'

His hands clasped together on his lap.

'...you were thinking about _**fucking**_ me...'

Harley's heart doubled in speed; the cool naked room seeming to contract around her.

'Excuse me?'

'You're imagining...what I would _feel like..._'

Slowly he blinked; his eyes even greener when they reopened.

Harleen dragged a reluctant breath inwards.

'What makes you think that?'

She took up the pencil, feeling the warmth of his fingers still coating the lead.

The Joker chuckled gently.

'I can see it in your eyes...'

He watched her stand from the seat opposite him as she prepared to leave.

'That longing for something a bit more..._satisfying_; no?'

His tongue flickered to the corner of his mouth, drawing Harley's stare to a widening grin. Her eyes trained firmly on his chin – that sharp, angled jaw line that had kept her awake the entire night, next to the blonde curls sweeping the back of his neck.

A voice finally crept from her throat.

'Yes...'

She lunged across the table, her fist snatching at The Joker's Velcro restraints and ripping them apart. With both hands she seized his jumpsuit and hauled him back to her lips.

The roughness of his unshaven skin left her face burning as he kissed her. With a haphazard scramble, Harley was climbing over the desk and forcing him back into his seat, landing roughly on his lap. She could feel his nails scraping her flesh as he pulled away the tight material of her newly pressed shirt, simultaneously hitching up her skirt.

With a sudden hoist, The Joker landed Harley backwards on the table, and held himself over her with a leer of victory.

'_Right again, wasn't I?'_

She tugged his lips back to hers and threw her legs around him.

Clipboard, paper and pencil fell to the floor with a sweep; the lead bouncing daintily across the tiles.

The drumming of the pencil stopped.

'Hour's up...'

Harley snapped through the haze and refocused on her patient.

His green eyes twinkled as he leant forward against the restraints.

'What were _you_ thinking about...?'


End file.
